Devil's Work
by BigRedCorporate
Summary: ONE SHOT. AU Corporate Kane/Demon Kane is a Hit Man. Taken from his split personality storyline.


A large polished dress shoe planted itself on the snowy, icy ground causing the deafening silence to be broken. Following suit was its pair, then came the long legs and the abnormally large upper body of their owner. Dressed in a jet-black tuxedo with a crimson tie, the owner shut the door to his Audi r8. Certain perks came with his… job. A smirk graced his features as he stalked to the front compartment of the car situated under the hood, sliding his hand along the sleek black exterior as he moved. Popping open the hood, his eyes sought out a small clip in the seemingly empty area. Tugging on it, a thin board sprung up, revealing a leather briefcase. Pulling it out, his large glove clad fingers intricately spun the locks on the briefcase; his ears waiting for the click to signal that it was unlocked. His ears perked up at the faint click and he slowly opened the case, his eyes scanning the array of various sharp tools and weapons perfectly lined up and strapped in. Shutting the case, he glanced up at the multi-floor condominiums, searching for the room where his current target was located. Spotting the familiar discolored light from the top floor he had become accustomed to on his near weekly visits, he pulled the case out, locked up the car and started his trek to the top floor.

Ringing the doorbell, he waited patiently. He stood still as a statue, his expression and posture never wavering. Too many times he had stood in this exact same position, it became almost routine to him. Gripping the case handle tighter, he contemplated what weapon he would use tonight. He never used the same weapon twice between back-to-back kills. It would be too obvious. He could be tracked. He could be found out. That wasn't his intention, oh no not at all. His intentions were to continue being the country's top hit man. The sound of a lock being jiggled only caused his eyes to shoot down to the door handle. His posture remained.

"Kane…" The door opened the rest of the way and there stood one of the most beautiful women Kane had ever laid eyes on. It was also the woman he was hired to kill. His stoic expression cracked into a soft, warm smile as he looked into the ocean blue eyes of Brooklyn Shaw. Her dark brown hair fell down past her shoulders in waves and seemed to shine endlessly in the light as she moved to let him in. Stepping into her complex, he immediately tensed as he saw a candlelit dinner set up in front of the massive window that overlooked the entire city.

Kane knew he should have killed her that second. He knew he should have grabbed her by the throat and made it quick and painless. But… that wasn't him. He _needed_ to see blood seep out of their body awkwardly jerking around. He _thrived_ on hearing their pathetic whimpers and pleas as he drove a blade into their lung. He _relished_ in the way their body fought and thrashed against him and the power he wielded as he choked the last breath out of them. Kane was messy. He was reckless in his mannerisms. Those who hired him dubbed him as 'the Corporate Demon'. He lost it during the kill, but he never once left any trace behind. He remained the inconspicuous shadow of hell on earth itself. He remained what he always was, a proper businessman. Which is why, when he allowed Brooklyn to set his suitcase down far from his reach and lead him to the table, he had gotten himself too wrapped up in this façade of what a normal life would be.

Looking out at the shimmering lights each and every building produced in the dark night, he silently took in the tranquility and beauty of the moment. Times like this were very rare, so when the opportunity arose he took advantage. "You're quiet tonight, is work keeping you busy?" He looked down into the glass of wine in his hand. _She's so innocent. So pure._ Glancing up, his eyes met hers and he nodded, "A lot of cases have been filed, I've had to spend a lot of time taking care of them." A small chuckle reached his ears, "I never knew the life of an insurer would be so hectic." He nodded, downing the rest of his wine. Dinner was finished and the two sat, chatting about their respective lives. Brooklyn had been the lead accountant in a multi-million dollar firm that caught their competitor fixing and editing their expenses. The boss of that firm had specifically requested Kane to track down and murder Brooklyn for bringing it public. He recalled the day he was handed the first installment for accepting the job,

 _~Picking up a thick envelope off of the hood of a car, Kane saw a hooded man dressed in black approach him. Immediately reaching into his pocket for his blade, the hooded man spoke, "I hope that bitch gets what she deserves. Make it count." And with no further exchange, both men went their separate ways.~_

Blinking his eyes, the moral side of him knew that this was wrong. Brooklyn did nothing wrong. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He felt a set of hands working the hard, tense muscles in his shoulders and back and for the first time in his career he questioned himself if he could actually go through with this. Feeling her hands slide their way down his chest and slyly rub against his crotch, he knew he was screwed.

Shoving Brooklyn up against the glass wall, he all but tore her skirt off to get his hands on her newly exposed skin. He growled as one of his hands made their way into her panties, searching, stroking, teasing. Her moans were like music to his ears as he kissed a path from her bare shoulders to her spine. Standing back up he pushed her hair out of the way, kissing her neck. His fingers stroked through her soft, wavy hair as he grabbed a fistful of it and pulled back, causing her to arch into him. He pressed his rock hard member, still sheathed in his tight pants against her ass and groaned. Glancing one more time at the beautifully lit city, he caught her hand pressed against the glass out of the corner of his eye, and as a showing of pure emotion that suddenly burst from deep down in his body, his much larger hand covered hers. The showing only lasted a few seconds before he pulled them both away from the window and towards her bed.

Tossing her onto the bed, he maneuvered so that he was pressed against her backside. Reaching a hand down her front, he rubbed her until he felt her start shaking and whimpering and he knew that she wouldn't last long. Leaning back, he only had enough time to drop his pants to his knees before thrusting himself into her with as much force as he could give. Holding her hips, he made sure to not leave any marks. Looking down, he only realized now how small and fragile she was as he pounded into her. _How… sexy she would look as I snap each and every one of her bones in my hands._ The thought shocked him at first but the loud groan that came out of his mouth told otherwise. _I need to mark her. I need to hear her screams._ The moral side fought with his carnal side as his hand once again fisted in her hair and he pulled back, her entire frame now being held captive against his. He wrapped his free arm around her, his hand working her breasts. Her moans pleased him, but he wasn't satisfied. The sick, twisted side of him immediately reminded him why he did what he did. He longed to hear and see the life being taken out of her hot little body.

His hand, which was still toying with her breasts, suddenly wrapped itself around her neck. Her shriek of shock only caused him to start squeezing as he felt her own hand dig into his muscular forearm. Her shriek had quickly turned into a moan and he felt himself teetering on the edge of climax. Squeezing harder and harder, he felt her moans turning into breathless pants as the life was literally being sucked out of her body. He only relieved the pressure to feel her muscles clamp down on his member rocking in and out of her. As her release was taken from her, he couldn't contain his climax any longer. Quickly pulling out, he felt his member twitch as he released. Letting go of her, he heard her struggle to take in air as both of them came down from their highs.

Shaking his head, he felt some sweat drip off as he heard the voice in his head speak up again; _Jesus Christ, Kane, why didn't you just kill her?_ He rubbed a hand over his face and got back to his feet, pulling his pants back up. Looking at the woman, he immediately felt remorse for what he had done. Stepping to her, he turned her to face him, "God… Brooklyn, I'm so sorry…" His hands stroked her neck gently, prints already beginning to show. He knew she couldn't find her voice, not yet at least. Walking her to the bathroom, he turned the shower on, motioning for her to get in, "I need to go. I-I'll be back." Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of the bathroom. Hearing her in the shower, he quickly threw his shirt, tie and jacket back on before ripping the wet sheets off the bed. Balling them up, he grabbed his suitcase and started a brisk pace to his car.

When he reached his car, he threw the sheets into the compartment. He'd have to burn them later. Shutting the hood, he looked back up at her complex, seeing the lights off. _How long have I been down here?_ Taking a few deep breaths, he calmed himself down enough to hear the voices in his head returning, _You are nothing but a monster! A freak! You don't deserve to have love. You don't deserve anything! You only do what's best for business. You do the devil's work!_ Succumbing to the words, he walked back up to the top floor, his eyes turning evil, as if the devil had taken over.

Pick locking her door, Kane quietly opened it and he spotted her wrapped up on the bed in what appeared to be a large throw. Making sure to close the door, he set his briefcase down on the counter and opened it up, his eye immediately catching a weapon he had yet to use…

A black-gloved hand held a hand-crafted blade that had a unique pattern of teeth. Approaching the sleeping form of Brooklyn, Kane's eyes softened at the vulnerable woman he had just selfishly taken not more than an hour ago. Feeling rage start to boil his blood aimed at himself, he softly whispered out, "I'm sorry Brooklyn." And a large gloved hand covered her mouth as the other planted itself in her chest above her heart.

Speeding down the highway, Kane puffed out another plume of smoke from a cigar. A bottle of Jack Daniel's sat in the Audi's cup holder as classis rock blared from the speakers. Another large, thick envelope sat on the passenger's seat filled with thousands of dollars; the final installment from his previous client. Letting his mind drift, images of Brooklyn Shaw flashed through his mind. In another lifetime, maybe things would have turned out differently. She didn't deserve what had happened but he did the devil's work. He didn't call the shots. Could he have stopped it? Could he have saved her? Yes, he could have, but as he stopped the car and stepped out, walking towards his next target, he _was_ nothing but a demon. He was nothing but a hit man.

 **This is the first time I've EVER written something this dark. I tried to get into the mind of Kane, or at least what his mind would be like. I'd love some feedback/criticism (helpful) on this one especially. I might edit this depending on when I'm not tired.**


End file.
